Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
by Tatiana K
Summary: Bigby just wants somewhere to drink in peace, and this brings him to the Mortar and Pestle, owned by Helen. One thing leads to the next: forgotten pasts are remembered, Bigby is in need of some rescuing, and the Remembrance Ball requires dates. But can the Sheriff of Fabletown let down his guard or pride long enough to appreciate what is right in front of him? (steamy T)
1. Chapter 1: The Mortar and Pestle

**Setting: Somewhere after _The Wolf Among Us_ though not so long after**

 **AU because it's an OC pairing**

* * *

Bigby simply wanted somewhere that he could drink in peace. Somewhere where he could reliably go and not get his ass handed to him by some pissed off Fable.

This had brought him to Trusty John. The man knew a little of everything and lived to help.

"Where could a tired sheriff get a drink with few to no disgruntled Fables?" Bigby asked, scratching the back of his head and looking askance as he asked. He felt a little like a coward but Fables didn't like him and he was tired of arguing with them over it.

"I've heard the Mortar and Pestle is a nice little place. Cozy and out of the way. But a true bar, not a club or a trendy spot."

Bigby grinned, now certain this had been a good idea. The doorman knew exactly what he was asking.

"And where is this place?"

"Down Kipling a block then turn right. Looks like an alley but you should be able to see the sign."

The sheriff expressed a grunt of thanks and pushed out of the Woodlands and into the cool night. Everything was frosty and he regretted not grabbing a scarf to go with his trench coat.

It took not ten minutes to reach the bar and he hurried inside, closing the door quickly to keep the cold at bay. He winced a little as the thought triggered less pleasant feelings. Snow had been downright frosty to him even since Bloody Mary's defeat. She did not trust him and constantly nagged at him about being "nice" and doing things "by the book." As if he didn't. That was the insulting part. If there was violence, he must have started it. If there were words exchanged, he was asked with a heavy sigh what had he done to provoke them. No credit at all and no trust.

He looked up for the first time, taking in the joint. Warm wood gleamed everywhere through the long but narrow space and a heavy carved bar ran down the right wall partway. There was an improbable fireplace against the far wall and small tables and arm chairs throughout. It was the perfect sort of sleepy European pub that he had been craving.

A woman stood up from where she had been crouched behind the bar. The first, most striking thing about her was her honey-blonde hair, swept back into a thick braid. Her extremely light skin was dotted with freckles over every part of her skin he could see and she was unusually tall for a Fable female.

Blue eyes met his own and she smiled a greeting.

"What'll it be, sheriff?"

He wasn't surprised she recognized him, but he was surprised he wasn't particularly familiar with her. How could she own a business and NOT end up at the Woodlands offices every week like all the other business owners in town?

"Pilsner," he answered, taking one of the stools along the bar.

She pulled a face at him and poured a beer from the tap. "We'll have to work on that," she teased, setting the beer down in front of him.

He smiled back, a rarity if he was honest and his eyes landed on her wrists as they peeked out from the sleeves of her Sarah Lund sweater. Encircling each wrist was a golden feather tattoo, but below the ink, the skin was scarred and thick. This set off something in Bigby's memory but he could not put a finger on what.

"Nice," he said, nodding at the tattoos.

"Thank you," she replied, holding out her wrists and twisting them in the light. "I paid to give them a little glow. I'd say it was worth it."

She turned back to what she had been working at before and Bigby turned his attention to his drink. Behind him and to the left, a chair scraped and Bigby felt his muscles tense. Maybe John had been wrong about this place.

"Well well well..." a voice like buttered rum poured over him.

Bigby knew the voice without even turning to look. "Shere Khan."

"Who would have guessed you would turn up here, sheriff? You seem to assume that you are welcome wherever you please. In our government, in our stores, in our homes..."

"I'm not looking for trouble." Huff and puff, Bigby was tired of saying that.

"But neither were we. And yet you always come looking for us."

"Shere Khan!" Both men jumped, almost forgetting the woman less than a yard away. "If you're looking to get you're ass kicked this is the best way to do it."

"Highly unlikely. I was a magnificent creature. Should the Sherif ever have the misfortune of meeting me in true form..."

"I wasn't talking about him, I was talking about myself. And that's big talk for a man who never pays his tab."

Bigby watched the other Fable's fist tighten but the glamoured tiger knew when it was quits. He threw not nearly enough money on the bar and left in a storm.

The woman smirked as she scooped it into her half apron pockets. "Asshole..." she said to herself amusedly.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Everyone deserves somewhere to drink in peace."

"What's your name?"

She gave him a look he couldn't read for a split second then brightened. "Helen," she said holding out her hand.

"Bigby," he said. As their hands clasped something again rang through him, something deeply familiar.


	2. Chapter 2: Injury and Memory

Bigby staggered into the Mortar and Pestle three days later with a bloody nose, a gash across his forehead, and a black eye. Helen took one look at him and told him to take a seat and that she'd be back. He pulled out a bar stool and slumped into it as she opened a door behind the bar. Peering up the stairs and inhaling deeply, he could tell that she lived in the apartment above the bar. She jogged down the stairs, returning with a washcloth and a bag of frozen peas.

"Here."

Helen watched Bigby dab at his face ineffectively until she couldn't stand it anymore. Leaning over the bar, she took the washcloth out of his hands without a word and began to clean out the cut on his forehead. Again, a deep familiarity struck him, but he could not understand why.

"What happened?"

"Some trolls don't like being told that their parties are too loud. Especially while a party is in swing."

She shook her head. "They just take it out of you whenever they can get it, don't they?"

He let out a bark of a laugh and their eyes met. Her face was close enough to his that he closed his eyes, pushing away the discomfort and the twist in his stomach that her proximity caused. Helen continued to clean out the cut, taking in the details of his face while his eyes were closed. She had never really seen him in human form before. She finished cleaning the cut and leaned back.

"That's better at least." Helen handed him the bag of peas.

Bigby held the bag to his eye, thankful for the numbing effect of the cold. A moment later Helen placed a pilsner in front of him.

"On the house."

Bigby gave her a smile with the half of his mouth that wasn't busted, then looked around. For the first time, he noticed there were others there. An elderly man with a long white beard sat talking to Doctor Swineheart. Their eyes met and Bigby watched Swineheart let out a annoyed groan.

"Why, Helen? Why?"

"He's got a right to be somewhere calm as much as you, doctor."

"Yes, but he distinctly undoes my calm," Doctor Swineheart sighed.

Bigby turned and gave the Doctor, who was sitting in an armchair by the fire, a small wave. The Doctor rolled his eyes in return and turned back to his conversation.

Helen smirked and turned her full attention on Bigby. "What are you doing to our poor doctor?"

"Fables don't really like me," he replied with a shrug, taking a gulp of his beer.

"I bet you have some interesting stories at least."

"Oh good Lord," Swineheart huffed from his chair. Bigby smiled again, realizing what she was trying to do.

"Someone went after me with some silver bullets recently. That was interesting."

Helen's eyebrows darted up into her bangs. "Silver? That's effort. Someone really had it out for you."

Bigby nodded. "The Crooked Man."

"Bet that left a mark."

"Cluster of scars in my right shoulder."

She shook her head sympathetically. "You've probably gotten more ass kickings here than when we lived in the Homelands."

Bigby warmed to the topic, shrugging off his coat and pulling up his sweater sleeve. Warping his left arm around his elbow was a web of scars. "Bloody Mary's axe, and then boot."

"It doesn't look new…" she murmured, impressed.

"They rarely last. The silver ones will though."

And with that comment they both found themselves looking at the scars on Helen's wrists. Tattooed or not, the scars had come from ugly wounds and had never gone away.

"What happened?" Bigby asked.

Helen's eyes snapped to his face. The odor of pain and disappointment washed over him, rolling off her in waves. She moved away from him, to the other end of the bar, and began to clean glasses. With her back to him, she said, "Ask Buffkin."

Swineheart chose that moment to approach her and pay his tab. But as she took his money he caught her hand. The look on the doctor's face was a new one to Bigby: complete sympathy. Helen gave his hand a squeeze and then he was gone, followed by Grandfather Frost.

Helen did not speak to him or look his way the rest of the time he was there. Bigby finished his drink and silently left.

* * *

Back at the Woodlands he headed for the Business Office. Snow was out (mercifully) and Boy Blue was leaning back in his chair, playing a cheerful tune on his horn.

"I need to find information about a Fable. Where's Buffkin?"

The monkey flew down, more sober than usual.

"Who are we looking for, Bigby?"

"Her name's Helen."

Bufkin scratched his head. "That doesn't really narrow it down."

"She's northern, maybe Norse or Rus?"

"How do you figure?" Boy Blue interjected.

"She owns a bar called the Mortar and Pestle." After blank looks from the boy, Bigby sighed. "Baba Yaga?"

"Got it!" Bufkin said as he took to the air. Shortly he was back with a volume. As Bigby had guessed it was the volume on the Rus Fables.

Cracking it open, Bufkin read:

 _Helen the Beautiful - A princess of her kingdom, Ivan was required to fetch her in order to be spared by a different king. A wolf captured her and brought her to Ivan. They then traveled, riding on the wolf's back, to the kingdom. Ivan's brothers were intensely jealous as he had already captured the Firebird and the Horse with the Golden Mane._

The door opened and Snow walked in, stopping in her tracks for a moment when she saw Bigby. It was things like that, little hesitations and unstated objections to his presence, that wore on him.

"Continue," he said to Bufkin and the flying monkey resumed:

 _They cut him into pieces before Helen's eyes and threatened her with death. She was nearly forced to marry the oldest brother, but was saved by the wolf. She now lives in Fabletown, running the Mortar and Pestle with Jill of Jack and Jill. She was one of the first Fables to arrive in the mundy world._

It was as if a door had opened in Bigby's mind. He reeled as the memories pounded down on him like a waterfall and clutched at his head. After being alive for hundreds of years, there was so much he had remembered but so much he had forgotten. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for an explanation since he rarely wanted information without a reason.

"I… I remember her… I _knew_ her…"

"What do you mean?" Snow pressed, sounding annoyed.

"I'm the wolf in that story."


	3. Chapter 3: A Not Quite Kidnapping

**This is based on the Russian fairy tale "Tsarevitch Ivan, the Firebird, and the Grey Wolf." This chapter and the next are flashbacks. They rely on some info you get from the comics: The Adversary is the reason the Fables ended up in the mundy world, and before coming to Fabletown Bigby had taken up hunting the Adversary's minions and helping Fables cross into the mundy world out of anger at the invasion.**

* * *

Bigby had met her when he was an older wolf, after he had begun hunting the Adversary and his soldiers. He'd never been into the Rus lands before and there was prey left and right. This had led him to meet Ivan.

Ivan was riding a deliciously fat horse through what was now Bigby's woods. Taking a liking to the horse but not caring for the young man, he devoured the one and left the other. But the young man was not a total fool: a wolf the size of a house was a wolf that one should bargain with.

"What brings you here, Grey Wolf?" Ivan had asked.

"I am hunting the Adversary and his men. What brings you here, little man?"

"I am looking for the Firebird."

"What will you gain from this?"

"I will gain power over the kingdom here. If you help me, I will work with you to fight the Adversary in these lands and I will give you free reign over the lands."

That was an offer that was too good to refuse, so Bigby did not. He took the young man to get the bird and bring it back, but true to form more was required. A horse was required, gotten, and still not enough. To prove complete loyalties, a woman was required: Helen the Beautiful.

Helen lived in a castle in a neighboring kingdom and so Bigby agreed to fetch her.

He had met her for the first time in the dead of night. She was sleeping when he stole into her room, silent as a shadow. When he nudged her, she awoke and did not scream. Rather, she drew a knife from under her pillow. It was a deft movement and he could sense she was confident in her skills with it.

"If you find me to be a danger," he asked, "why not call for others?"

"They are no help to me. I've long defended myself and this castle without the aid of any man."

"You can't be so old."

"I'm as old as any of us are."

"I have come to take you to a man who wishes to marry you," Bigby explained, keeping his eyes on the point of her knife.

"And if I don't wish to marry?"

"Then I will leave you here."

The point lowered. Helen had never encountered a talking wolf, let alone a wolf who would spare her at her request.

"I will not be taken for some man's pride or household or bed. I am worth more."

"I agree," Bigby had replied without hesitation. His sense of smell told him more about people than they could ever realize. He knew she was under stress, that she was alone, but that she did not doubt her strength. Her force of will was what had kept her alive. These traits alone were enough to convince him that Ivan was not in any way worthy of her.

"This is a game of politics," he continued. "You may rule well but you cannot stand against the Adversary alone. Ivan is vying for the power of your neighboring kingdom and you are needed for him to prove himself. Should you return with me, you could rule not only this kingdom, but another as well that would better protect your home."

Helen let her arm fall to her side, holding the gaze of the strange Grey Wolf who was reasoning with her.

"What is this to you?"

"I am interested in defeating the Adversary. This will help further that goal."

She thought for some time, the night sounds quiet around them. "And this Ivan? What do you make of him?"

Bigby shrugged his massive shoulders. "He is not cruel, but he is not bright. You could easily become the thought behind the throne and he would treat you well enough."

"Well enough..." Helen echoed sounding annoyed.

Bigby moved closer to her and she could feel his warm, wet breath on her face and arms. "I will not let any harm come to you. You will not be treated poorly while I draw breath. I promise to protect you."

Helen's heart had stuttered, he had sensed, and without a word she had dressed and strapped her knife to her side and a crossbow and full quiver to her back.

"You must know, Grey Wolf, I go for you and not for this man."

He met her eyes, bright and blue as they were. Her skin was covered in freckles, like stars and just as strikingly beautiful.

"I know, princess."

"Helen," she corrected.

"Bigby," he replied.

A smile flickered across her face as she took seat on his back, her face close to his ear as she leaned forward. He lept through the window and was gone.

The three traveled together through Helen's kingdom and into the kingdom that Ivan was competing for. Helen realized quickly that Bigby had been very honest with her: Ivan was not bright but was not malicious. He would treat her well and would be a manageable tool for fighting back when the Adversary arrived.

However, Ivan was poor conversation and Helen turned to the Grey Wolf. His intelligence impressed her deeply and his level character comforted her. She alone rode him, speaking into his ear and then feeling the rumbles of his replies beneath her as he ran.

They traveled like this for a full moon cycle and by the end of it all, Bigby felt more than a little affection for the daring princess that spoke to him without fear. Once they were in sight of the castle, Bigby felt a sudden urge to sweep her up and continue running, to take her with him wherever he may go.

"Well, Helen," he said gently, as Ivan waited impatiently some ways off, "this is the beginning of your better story."

Tears stood in her eyes and the heartbreak he sensed in her was mirrored in his own chest. "Please stay in my kingdom. You must keep your promise."

"Of course, beautiful one," he half teased. "I will protect you. You have my word."

"Be safe, Grey Wolf," she whispered.

Then he turned and padded into the trees until she could no longer see him.

"Come, princess," Ivan cajoled. "Our future awaits."

Bigby had not looked back, hoping to ease the sting of the goodbye. If he had, he would have been able to keep his promise.


	4. Chapter 4: Failure and Escape

**Flashback Part 2. Bit of a trigger warning though minimal, non-graphic, and not carried out.**

* * *

Bigby did not know first-hand what had happened after he left them, but the story he was able to collect from creatures of the woodlands went like this:

Ivan and Helen did not ride more than a mile into the woods before three men surrounded them, penning them in and drawing them to halt.

Helen managed to shoot one of them in the arm before she was knocked from the Horse with the Golden Mane. Her ears rung, dimming the sounds of Ivan's struggle and failure to stay on the horse. She gasped for breath as her lungs lurched back into functioning.

This was short lived as a kick to her ribs by the man she had shot drove the air back out.

"Leave her alone!" Ivan shouted at them. He was being held by one and the other was fishing around in his saddle bags, pulling out gauze and wrapping the arm of the third. "She has nothing to do with this!"

"Who are these assholes?" Helen panted, before receiving a stunning backhand for her phrasing.

"They're my brothers," Ivan had moaned.

Her mind spun. This would explain the "competition" elements of his story. She had assumed he was competing with others in the kingdom, but no... he was competing within his family, a far more dangerous game.

"And _they_ have no intention to losing a kingdom to a fool," the youngest, Andrey, growled. He pulled a hatchet from his saddle bags and drove it into Ivan's chest.

Helen screamed until they gagged her, watching two of them hack Ivan to pieces while another held her in a vice like grip. She kept hoping the Grey Wolf would hear her and would return. But he did not. No one came to save her.

"And her?" the second oldest and the one holding her, Sergey, asked. "I want her, if I'm not to have the kingdom or the horse."

"Or the horse?!" she had shrieked at him through the gag.

"Take the horse," the oldest, Nikita, hissed at him. He stopped beside Helen, drenched in blood, and ran a hand through her long hair. "I want her." He looked her in the eyes, his face inches from hers. "I'm going to take the gag away. If you scream, I will cut off your lips."

He took away the gag and she did not scream.

"You will marry me. If you do not, your fate will be the same as his."

"I would kill myself before I married you," she spat at him.

He considered this. "I believe you." Nikita rose and pulled a set of handcuffs from his saddle bags. Short, thin spikes lined the insides of the handcuffs and Helen began to struggle to get free from Sergey. "So these will help. They're spelled. You should be a far more compliant fiancee with these."

The handcuffs drove into her wrist bones and veins, pouring their hateful magic through her. Her mind clouded and everything went very dark; she remembered nothing clearly until the wedding.

A week passed and Bigby began to worry as he had heard nothing of Ivan or, more importantly, Helen.

As he headed toward the distant castle, he began to ask creatures if they knew what had happened to the princess and Ivan. After a day of traveling, he came across a badger who led him to Ivan's body. Other animals skittered out of their homes nearby and filled in the details. Bigby felt he was going to throw up. He had failed her completely and now she was in serious danger.

Catching the nest of a crow in his mouth, he managed to convince her to bring him the water of death to save her babies. This revived Ivan and Bigby rushed away with him, hoping desperately that he would be on time. As he gained on the castle, he could hear the sound of the wedding beginning.

Though she did not know it, Helen felt the handcuffs pulled from her wrists as Bigby rode toward her with Ivan on his back. Her mind slowly began to clear and she realized her wrists were a mangled mess of shredded skin. As she was dressed for the wedding, they began to ache. As she was escorted with rather a lot of force to the hall the wedding was to be held in, they burned like fire. And as she was faced with Nikita, her wrists throbbed to the grip of his hands on hers.

When it came time for her to speak, she hissed she would not marry him and he twisted her wrists in his hands. She nearly collapsed at the pain of it and her consent was suddenly found unnecessary to the service. They were announced married, though she fought to pull away from him and kicked at him viciously.

What followed was worse: A blow to her stomach doubled her over and Nikita bent her over a table in the hall, fighting with her for access between her legs. Her wrists were breaking as she fought him, giving her almost no strength to resist with her hands or arms, when a thundering wind blew the doors from their hinges.

Bigby was not known in the Rus fables the way he was further west. The sight of the Big Bad Wolf sent the wedding guests scattering. It also distracted Nikita long enough for Helen to draw his sword from his belt and run him through with it. The force this put on her wounds sent her spiraling into darkness with the floor rising up to meet her face.

She woke to the feeling of something nuzzling her face. Bigby watched as her blue eyes opened so very close to his. He also watched them slide away, refusing to hold his gaze. He helped her stand and watched her take in the slaughter around her. Bigby had demolished the brothers and any stupid enough to fight him. His own face was marked with wounds from their swords and arrows stuck from his back.

Ivan ran back in, returned from pursuing anyone who might dare to stay in the castle, panting with his hands on his knees. "Oh Helen!" he exclaimed. "You're okay! Now we can -"

"WE?!" she half screamed at him. " _We_ have nothing to do with one another! If you ever speak to me again, I swear I will kill you!"

Bigby watched her flee the room as Ivan gaped. "I would take her at her word. The kingdom is yours. Be grateful." Then he followed Helen into the evening.

"And what do _you_ want?" Helen had spat at him, pausing in her flight to throw daggers with her eyes.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Your sorry will not heal my wounds! Your sorry will not undo what I have seen and felt! Your sorry will not restore my mind!" She turned away and continued running down the steps of the palace.

Bigby hung his head. It was all true. "What if I could send you somewhere safe?" he offered. He heard her slow and then stop, considering. At last she whirled back to him.

"I don't trust you, Wolf!" she screamed at him. "You _were not there_! Not only did you fail to protect me, you barely intervened in time to keep _everything_ from being taken away from me!"

If Bigby was honest, he was mildly awed that this little edible creature was so robustly dressing a wolf the size of a house down like this. But this thought was pushed aside for the truth of her words.

He had promised and he had failed her. He had nearly been too late and in many ways he had been too late from the moment he turned his back on her. She had been at the very least a friend and now...

Slowly he approached her, dripping a slow trail of blood. "I could send you out of this land. There would be no more Ivans. No more magic and no more Adversary. Your wounds would heal."

"Would you be with me?" she whispered without looking at him.

"No. I must stay here. But I will take you there myself, every step."

He approached her cautiously and gently lapped at her wrists. "I would do anything..." he murmured.

When Helen turned and looked into his face, she saw the truth and emotion in what he was saying and what he was trying to show.

"Very well. But first we should tend our injuries."

She washed out his wounds, he wrapped her wrists, and they left. Their trip was long since it involved crossing so much of the Fable territories. And as before, they became a symbiotic pair.

When at last they reached the gate, Bigby was loathe to see her go. But he could not ask her to stay with him, not after he had already failed her once.

"This world isn't like ours," he gestured at the gate with a paw. "It's mundane, but safe."

Helen nodded, holding his gaze with the steady fearlessness he had always loved in her.

"Will I see you again?" she asked.

"Maybe, when I can do no more here," he said.

She leaned forward, planting a sincere kiss on the end of his nose. "I hope I do."

Then she was through the gate, and was gone.


	5. Chapter 5: Remembrance

Bigby rushed into the Mortar and Pestle first thing in the afternoon the following day. He had to find Helen and tell her what he now realized!

He threw open the door, rushed to the bar, and stopped dead. Brown wavy hair on a much shorter female Fable made it clear this was not Helen. The Fable turned to him and smirked.

"Gee, thanks, Bigby!" Jill drawled at him wryly.

Bigby blushed in spite of himself. His surprise and disappointment at not finding Helen and instead finding Jill (of Jack and Jill fame) must have been a bit too obvious. "Sorry. I didn't realize you worked here."

"I manage things behind the scenes usually. Cooking the books and all that. But Helen's visiting the Farm today so I'm here."

"Oh..." Bigby realized _that_ was why he had never seen Helen at the Business Office; he had seen Jill plenty of times instead. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

Jill pinned him with her brown eyes. "You finally catch on?" she asked.

Again he could feel his neck and ears heating up; it was telling that Jill was aware of his memory lapse. Helen had clearly been bothered by it enough to talk to Jill about it. "Less gracefully than I would like to admit, yes."

She smiled, releasing him from her penetrating gaze. "I'm sure Helen will be glad to hear it no matter what. She was happy when you turned up."

"I never realized -"

Jill held up a hand, cutting him off gently. "Save it for her. She should hear it first. See you tomorrow, Sherriff."

* * *

The next day was chaos with the Woodsman causing more trouble in his apartment and having to be brought in (with great force) and _then_ having to deal with Bluebeard still trying to intimidate Snow into getting his way even though she had been in charge for months now.

Bigby found himself looking forward to escaping all this for a drink, to being able to talk to Helen about what he had remembered. When he pushed open the door and saw the familiar honey colored braid he couldn't help but smile. She grinned at him in return as he approached.

"Hey..." He pulled up a stool at the bar. "I remember you..."

She looked a little stunned and a little relieved. "What do you remember?"

"I remember a princess who agreed to go with a Grey Wolf. I remember failing her..."

Helen stared hard at the bar top with her hands in loose fists, but Bigby could feel her pulse pounding and could scent the strength of emotion she was trying to hide.

"I remember these as well," he said, reaching out and gently brushing her wrists with his fingertips.

Helen's heart raced and she could not decide if she wanted to pull away from his touch. She had waited for him to remember and now that he did it was almost too much.

"I missed you..." she murmured. This was a huge understatement. When he had showed up, her heart had wrenched and when he gave no indication of knowing her she had drowned her sorrows. She would have recognized him anywhere and she he'd never even seen him in human form!

"I'm sorry, Helen. I should have recognized you."

Bigby felt her hands twist and catch his fingertips in her hands. She gave them a squeeze before releasing his hands and dropping hers to her sides.

"I didn't know where you might have been. I assumed you would go north," he pressed on.

"Why would it not occur to you to look?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the countertop.

"Why would I go looking? Who would ever want me to show up at their door?"

Their eyes met and he could see she understood. But he could also see, quite clearly, that she still wished he had. He had again disappointed her. Again he had arrived too late, but this time hundreds of years too late.

"So..." Bigby leaned in, determined to turn the conversation, "where have you been these last three hundred years?"

Helen laughed and he was glad to hear the sound, now ringing back through his memory to the days of the Homelands.

"I did go north for a while. When you led me to the gate there weren't a lot of non-native people on this continent, so I went north and joined with the French for a while. I married a fur trapper before I realized what a terrible idea that was. I didn't realize the mundies don't age like us. We had a kid and I had to leave them. I pushed further north and moved around as a trader until I heard about Fabletown from one of the Tourists. Then I moved back here and I've been doing this and that ever since. Had the bar for about seventy years now."

"Know what happened to your kid?" Bigby asked, genuinely curious. He had heard of Fables who had married mundies in the early days before regulations and the community, but had never met one.

"She married a sailor and went with him back to France. I don't know much after that, but I believe she had a relatively long life there." Helen smiled more easily, leaning her chin in her hand. "How about you, Grey Wolf? What have you been up to the past three hundred years?"

Bigby grinned wolfishly at her. "Well I'm going to need a drink for all that."

She poured him a beer, placed it in front of him, and settled in.


	6. Chapter 6: Bad and Ugly

For Helen, Bigby was like the moon. He waxed and waned, sometimes more present than others, but he was always there and would always return.

What had begun as about once a week, slowly became several times a week, which slipped easily into almost daily. Both of them had hundreds of years of pretending this was not exactly what it was and so both were happily blind to what was obvious to all the other patrons of the Mortar and Pestle.

The weather warmed and as sleeves shortened, Bigby was privy to Helen's tension between enjoying showing off her tattoos and discomfort with exposing her wrists. '

"You shouldn't worry about it," he said to her, seemingly out of the blue one April evening.

Helen blushed. It was disconcerting that he didn't try to hide how much he knew about her just from observation and scent like he did most other Fables.

"Hypocrite," she snapped back.

Bigby gave a dry chuckle. "If only you knew..."

Helen leaned forward and Bigby noticed his own pulse speed up as the front of her shirt dipped invitingly open.

"Do tell, Sheriff."

He wanted to shut the conversation down, but she had told him so much over the months he had known her.

"To my brothers I was the runt. I tried to prove them wrong for a very long time."

"You? A runt?"

He nodded and drained his glass.

Helen let the thought roll through her mind. It made it easier she supposed to mesh how others saw him (Big and Bad) with the Grey Wolf she knew.

"Still better than being 'the girl.' I had my own fucking kingdom and I was still 'the girl' in some other asshole's story."

"Yeah, but you never ate anyone."

"If it would have proven a useful action, I would have."

Bigby laughed but she had fixed an intense gaze on him and he stopped, realizing how little joke there was in her words.

"The problem is we're stuck with all these princesses and princes who slept and kissed and lived rich. There's no place for uglies like us in their society," Helen said after a space of silence.

"You're not ugly."

Helen held up her wrists. "Really?"

"Yes. Really. You've never once been ugly."

"And you've never once been Bad. Still stuck in your name like these scars are stuck on my body."

Bigby had nothing to say to that, so he acted in a way he rarely did. As she stared at the painting hanging beside the bar, Helen felt a rough hand enclose hers. She felt a blush creep over her and knew he could hear her heart pounding, but she entwined her fingers with his anyway.

* * *

Helen did not enjoy taking the train, but given that she was without a license it was the easiest way to get up the coast.

She curled up in a window seat and let her eyes slide shut, waiting for the long and horribly boring ride to begin.

"Helen?"

Her eyes popped open and she found herself staring straight at Bigby. A grin spread across her face reflexively and she made room for him in the seat beside her.

Bigby felt relief wash over him at being offered the seat without having to ask and joined her.

"No luggage?" she asked.

"Never have. Why start now?"

She smirked at him, enjoying yet another oddity of the sheriff's.

"And where are you headed?" he asked.

"Maine."

Bigby watched her blush and quirked an eyebrow. "And...?"

"You can't yell at me," she mumbled.

"I _can_ but it's unlikely I will," he teased.

"Fair enough. I did one of those ancestry things online after we talked about my daughter. I found some of my descendants and I was curious."

Bigby looked a bit shocked but didn't say anything.

"Nothing?"

He shook his head. "You'll be careful."

Helen felt a glow spread through her and suppressed the urge to smile. "Where are you headed?"

"Also Maine, if you'll believe it. We have a small community up there that could use some checking in on."

The train pulled away from the station as they fell into easy conversation. Bigby had to admit that he rather liked not talking to her from across a bar. Her hair brushed his shoulder and her body radiated an inviting warmth beside his.

"Okay, you've got to stop tapping!" Helen exclaimed after about an hour beside one another.

"Sorry. Didn't realize."

"What's eating you?"

"Can't smoke."

"So? Where can you smoke indoors anymore? Get some gum."

"Doesn't help."

"How?"

"It's not the nicotine. I need the smoke. Blocks out smells."

"Now that," Helen said, shifting her weight to face him more, "is something I would love to hear more about. What _can_ you smell?"

"Everything. And every smell tells me something and often more than I want to know."

"What do I smell like?"

Bigby thought through what to say to that. Loneliness. Sadness. Loss. Pure, divine attraction. A chemical combination that made him want to pull her to him when his guard was low.

"Hops and wheat. And forest. When we met, you smelled like iron and steel."

He watched her delighted reaction and was pleased with his answer. He found that he was often happy when she smiled because of something he had said her done. It was a rush he was learning to crave.

"And you smell like..." Helen leaned over, breathing deeply, "smoke."

He laughed, a short bark.

"No super smell here. I could read your palm though."

"Oh really?" Bigby asked skeptically.

"Yes really! Here..." She laid her hand on the armrest between them and he placed his hand in hers.

Bigby felt his blood begin to pound as she ran a finger over his rough palm.

"Your head line indicates you're a thinker. You analyze and consider before coming to a decision."

"You would know that anyway," he argued.

"I would. Others...?"

"Fair enough." He had more than enough reputation for rash decision making and thoughtless actions, deserved or otherwise.

"Your life line has several clear breaks. You've seen betrayals and loss."

He said nothing to that.

"But it's quite long, showing you are someone others depend on." She looked up into his eyes. "That must be hard to reconcile. That those who need you disappoint you."

Snow came immediately to mind, but he still said nothing.

Helen's heart was pounding. She had clearly gotten that last one right which was extremely interesting.

"And the heart line..."

The scent of her filled his senses, overwhelming him as she leaned over his palm.

"I need to stretch my legs," he managed before taking off down the train car.

Despair that she had gone too far drowned her. She swore, throwing her back into her seat and staring out the window. His heart line had indicated someone withdrawn but with a lot to give. Clearly she should have taken a hint...

Bigby did return some time later with two steaming cups of black coffee.

"I didn't know how you took it."

"I'm-"

"Don't. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"I have a way of letting people know when they're out of line," he smirked, sipping the awful coffee that would help him filter the air around him.

Slowly and steadily, their conversation resumed.

* * *

It was an eight hour train ride to their stop in Maine. Helen grew drowsy as night folded in around them.

Bigby watched her head drop and jerk back violently with some amusement before caving in. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he gently leaned her against him.

Her head rested against his shoulder and he was again thrown back into memories of fireside nights in a forest in the high north. The smell of her drowned him, but now he gave himself over to it as he also sank into sleep.


	7. Chapter 7: Full Wolf

Stormy spring nights were the absolute worst for business. Helen always ended up standing around for hours and then eventually closing down and going to bed. And this evening was looking to be yet another in a long line of boring rainy nights.

"Helen!"

She jerked her nose out of her book to the door where Beast stood.

"What? What's wrong?"

"It's Bigby."

Helen's heart stopped. She was maybe the tenth person down the chain of important Bigby contacts. This could not in any way be good.

Beast continued, "Bluebeard's up to something, I don't know what, and now Bigby's totally out of control. He's gone full wolf and we're trying to reign him in but we need help."

"I don't see-"

"Snow's on the Farm and you knew him in wolf form right?"

She was glad it was a slow night as she grabbed her jacket and followed Beast out the door, locking the place down as they left.

"Where is he?"

"Warehouse district. A mercy there at least. Not many mundys."

"How did Bluebeard get him to turn?"

"We're not sure. But Bluebeard has so much stashed away, it's hard to even guess."

"Bufkin?"

"Belle's with him. They'll send word if they find anything."

Beast hailed a cab and they flew through the streets of New York. Helen's heart was slamming. She had known him as a Wolf but that had been hundreds of years ago. And their parting had been messy. She was not sure if she was more of a help or a liability, but she would be damned if she would let Bluebeard harm him in any way.

When they pulled to a stop and jumped out, Helen could feel the unnatural silence and shadows all around her.

"We've cleared everyone we could think to," Beast murmured to her. "This way."

She watched him bulk up as he led her toward a fire that roared in a trash can a few streets up.

They reached Grimble, in full form, just as Boy Blue did, running from the opposite direction.

"Blue! What's going on?" Beast asked.

"They've formed a hunting party. They're claiming Bigby is a menace and that since King Cole won't stop him, Bluebeard will have to. This is all some involved set up to hunt Bigby for sport."

Helen was running in the direction Blue had come from before Blue or Beast could realize she had gone.

She was a block away when she heard them call after her. She worried about them catching up to her for a brief moment before shooting blindly out into a brightly lit street.

A barricade had been set up near where she stopped and circling the other end of the street was the Grey Wolf. She had forgotten how BIG he really was and her breath caught in her throat. He was almost as tall as the warehouses around him and his teeth gleamed as he snarled and paced.

Someone grabbed her roughly and she tried to jerk free.

"Be still you stupid girl!"

She was yanked around face to face with Bluebeard himself.

"Do you want to be killed?! Get behind the barricade!"

"You can't do this!" she yelled, still kicking and hitting him in any way she could.

"Shut up!" he hissed. "I can and I will. This menace must be dealt with. He is clearly an unstable danger to us all."

Finally gaining some footing, Helen drove her knee up between his legs. He let go of her, cursing her in the Old Language and she dashed up the street toward Bigby.

"Grey Wolf! Over here!" she shouted toward Bigby. "Grey Wolf!"

Bigby turned and stopped pacing, staring at her. There was something very familiar here. Something he knew...

"I'll shut your mouth myself you foolish bitch!"

Helen screamed in pure panic as Bluebeard grabbed her wrists in one hand and wrapped her braid in his other, yanking her backwards by it. The last time someone had her wrists in their hands...

Bigby turned. That scream he knew. He had not saved her. But he could now.

A growl erupted from Bigby and Blubeard let go, running from Helen back to the barricade as Bigby bore down on her.

Helen waited, hoping she would survive this, as the Big Bad Wolf drew nearer and nearer.

She felt his teeth close around her, lifting her from the ground. And the next thing she felt was his back beneath her, astride him like so many hundreds of years ago. She let out the breath she had been holding and leaned forward, pressing her face into his fur.

"Shall I eat him?" Bigby rumbled.

"That would be a felony. Let's go home."

"As you wish. But not without a warning."

He tilted his head back and howled, shattering the glass down the block. Helen sat up staring directly at Bluebeard, who cowered behind his pitiful barricade. Then they turned and were gone.

* * *

Home to Bigby had meant the Woodlands. Too late he realized this was not the case for Helen. He had cooled on the run back and now was simply an exhausted and bleeding man stumbling back home in fewer clothes than desirable as Helen tried desperately to support his weight.

Outside the Woodland gates, he collapsed.

"Bigby," she pleaded, "get up!"

He did not budge and she sighed heavily. Slowly and painstakingly she got him across her shoulders and bent double carried him into the apartment complex.

She was surprised to be greeted by a pig in the lobby.

"You found him! How is he?!"

"Still breathing. I could use some help?"

"Sure thing!" The pig ran over to the elevator and hit the button before opening a utility closet door. A moment later he emerged with a shopping cart.

Bigby was unceremoniously dumped into the shopping cart and then wheeled into the elevator, the pig talking nonstop.

"And I told Beast," he monologued as the elevator rang for Bigby's floor, "he's been drinking out at a bar. Blonde Rus Fable owns it. She might help."

"Wait," Helen stopped him. "That was your idea?"

Colin nodded, pushing open the tiny apartment door. "He said he knew you from before and he didn't sound sad or angry about it. That's about all you get with Bigby."

Helen quickly realized the couch was the only thing that could be described as comfy in the apartment and worked to get him out of the cart and onto the couch.

"So how do you know him?" Colin asked, calmly watching her struggle with an unconscious man several inches taller than her that outweighed her by about 40 pounds.

"That's a hard question," she gasped as she dropped Bigby more or less successfully on the couch. She was covered in blood and needed to know where it was coming from. "Help me find where he's bleeding."

Colin's more expert nose found a gash along his ribcage that opened up between two ribs but did not seem to have done vital damage.

"First aid kit?"

"Kitchen." He led the way and indicated a drawer. The drawer, it appeared, was the first aid kit. It was full to bursting with medical supplies.

"This is a common problem for him?"

"Have you met him? He's a sheriff with no charm and no patience. Of course this is normal for him."

"So I shouldn't be worried?"

"Are you?"

The grin that she could hear in the pig's voice brought heat to her cheeks but she ignored it.

"I tend to worry when people bleed like this. It's a thing people do."

"Ouch!" Colin teased. "I'll take the hint."

Helen couldn't help but smile. "Help me get him patched up. I'm Helen."

"Colin," he replied.

* * *

Bigby woke a few hours later, stiff and sore and with a sharp pain in his ribs. He groaned and opened his eyes. What he saw made his heart slam, radiating fresh waves of pain.

Helen woke to someone shaking her and she was about to yell at Colin to leave her the hell alone when she realized who was waking her.

"You're alive," Bigby breathed, letting her shoulders go.

"Of course I'm alive. How the fuck do you think you got in here?"

"I woke up and you were curled up and covered in blood."

Helen had forgotten that. She looked down and Bigby watched her expression radiate disgust. "So it would seem."

Bigby walked over to a nearby closet and pulled a white button-down from a stack. "Here."

Helen would have sworn he was blushing but his back was to her before she could be sure. Similarly turning her back to him, she pulled off her shirt, dropping it to the floor, and pulled on his much larger shirt.

"Thanks," she murmured, sitting back down and avoiding his eyes.

Colin trotted up as Bigby resettled himself on the couch. "What the hell happened, Bigby?"

"Bluebeard told me he had caught wind of some illicit trading at the docks. I met him and he ambushed me. Stabbed me in the side and it just flipped a switch. I lost all control."

"You've been stabbed before, according to our very verbal friend here," Helen said. "Do you go full wolf every time?"

"No. It was something with the knife. It stripped away everything that would stop me. I had no choice."

"Sounds like grounds for an arrest."

"Indeed..." Bigby growled. "But you should not have done that, Helen."

"Done what?!" Colin cried. "Some of us were not there!"

"I stood in the street and yelled at Bigby until Bluebeard attacked me," Helen answered.

"I would agree with Bigby on this one then."

"Why would you take a risk like that?" Bigby asked, staring at her intently.

"They were going to kill you."

"I've handled more than my fair share of bullets. I would have survived."

She looked away, his gaze more than she wanted right now. She watched the pigeons flutter on his window ledge before taking off for another perch. Finally, Helen returned his gaze.

"I've kept tabs on you, Sheriff, ever since I realized who you were. There's a reason Swineheart drinks at my bar. You seem to underestimate the capacity others have to do you harm." She twisted a strand of her blonde hair around a finger, thinking. "Bluebeard would kill you in a heartbeat and you gave him good reason to. I needed to stop him."

"But I could have killed you."

Pounding started on Bigby's door, with Snow's all to familiar voice coming from the hall. Helen stared at her hands, clasped in her lap and let a smile cross her features. She stood, gathering up her jacket and her keys. Heading for the door, she affectionately ran a hand over Colin's bristles.

Helen turned and locked eyes with Bigby, sending an undeniable thrill through him.

"Don't worry, Sheriff. I'm not afraid of the Big Bad Wolf."

She opened the door, delighted to see the look on Snow's face. "He's all yours," she said, brushing past the deputy mayor.

"I'll need to know what happened," Snow called after her.

"You know where to find me. And if you don't, Bigby certainly does." Helen walked into the elevator and was gone.

Before Snow could enter the apartment and start questioning, Colin turned to the sheriff, who looked a bit stunned at everything that had just happened.

"I know you think you know what you're doing, Bigby, but if you don't snatch her up before someone else does, you're the biggest fool in Fabletown."


	8. Chapter 8:What Fables Want

After Bluebeard's arrest (which inevitably led to his release by King Cole and an agreed requirement that he hand over any and all magical weapons), Bigby seemed to almost move into the Mortar and Pestle, much to Helen's pleasure. She did not offer his shirt back and he did not ask for it, a half understanding having grown between them.

Everyone with any amount of extended exposure to them was more than a little aware of the spark between the Fabletown sheriff and the bartender. Everyone except them.

Jill was one of these less fortunate people who happened to be stuck with them quite often. While she rarely if ever missed Jack, she knew that nothing would cause Bigby to clear a room faster than bringing Jack into it. The constant flirting and lack of any momentum was driving her insane.

That day's topic was mundy life.

"Well I don't see how knowing so much about cars is helpful if you can't operate one," Bigby was saying, smiling at Helen wryly.

"I can't operate one because we don't have a status with the Mundy government that would let me! And it's better than not knowing! You've lived here for hundreds of years!"

"And in those hundreds of years cars are relatively new! I mastered horses and carriages and then everything changed."

"Calm down, old man. I'm only talking about the kinds of knowledge that would allow us to be successful in this world."

"So you think we should go out and live mundy?"

"I don't know if I'd say that. But we could own more than a handful of businesses. We could do better than relying on a man who stabbed you to finance our way of life. And if we refuse to learn anything new, we can't move forward."

"You sound just like Snow," Bigby teased.

Helen froze and he knew instantly that had been the wrong thing to say. He did not know why it was wrong, but as he watched her walk past Jill, tell Jill she was going on break, and storm up the stairs to her apartment it was very clear that had been the wrong thing to say.

"Damn, Bigby," Jill said from where she sat. "That was top-shelf stupid."

"What did I say?"

"Seriously?"

He just glowered at her so she threw her book down and walked over to him.

"Why might she not like being compared to your last flame?"

"Snow's not my..."

He faltered at the withering look Jill was giving him.

"Fine. But I don't understand why she should care."

"Because Snow is a lot of things Helen isn't. And it would make anyone insecure."

When Bigby didn't reply Jill decided she didn't have the patience for this anymore.

"Gods almighty! She's into you, Bigby! Helen doesn't like being compared to Snow because she's the last person you liked and she might still be competition!"

Bigby stared at her. Inwardly, he felt like fireworks were going off in his chest, but he had long since gotten used to hiding how he felt from others.

"Just promise me you won't fuck this up?! I don't think I can survive that!" Jill exclaimed at his blank expression. When he didn't reply she simply threw up her hands and stormed back to her book.

* * *

About a week later, Blue was sorting out repairs for the street in front of the Mortar and Pestle with Jill.

"And how do you find our good sheriff's constant presence at your place of employment?" Blue teased.

She gave him such a dirty look he laughed aloud.

"They need some help getting started?"

"They need something!" she huffed. "She wasn't like this when you two were together."

"Well, in her defense that's probably a good sign," Blue mused. "I haven't seen her since then but Bigby certainly seems over the moon about her."

"That is an understatement. I just want them to hook up and be done with it!"

"I think there's something I can do to help there," Blue grinned, turning back to the schematic spread between them.

* * *

That night, Helen was surprised to see Blue drop in.

"And what brings you here, stranger?" she asked grinning.

Bigby was dismayed to see him half climb over the bar to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Rogue," she teased, pushing him away from her. "You stay away for, what, fifty or sixty years and all the sudden you show up here looking for sugar?"

"You are the sweetest thing I could ever want, Helen," Blue said, oozing charm. "And to be fair, you stopped coming by the Business Office at about the same time."

"Fair enough. What'll it be?"

"Nothing at all. I'm just here to see your lovely face."

"Bullshit."

"Not at all! I was talking to Jill about the repaving and you came up and I had missed your gorgeous face so here I am!"

Bigby was fighting the urge to punch him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Blue had a fling with someone in the 20s, but it had never occurred to him before that it would be Helen.

"Awww... How sweet," Helen replied in monotone. "How are things down there? I imagine Snow's a better leader than the kinky pervert before her."

"Heard about that?"

"My favorite customer handled the case," she replied, and Bigby was pleased to scent the genuine emotion behind the statement.

"Favorite?" Blue mock pouted. "Anyone can show up here everyday and sulk. However, I could _also_ show up here every day and offer a bit more... See if that doesn't change your mind about your favorites."

And Bigby was back to wanting to hit him.

"Maybe I _like_ sulking."

Bigby could almost hear Helen's pulse racing, could sent the pheromones she was giving off, and could feel the flush that crept over her cheeks.

"Come on, beautiful. Once you go for boyish good looks you never go back. Or do you like haggard too?"

"Will you stop talking about me like I'm not here?!" Bigby half shouted.

Helen's eyebrows shot up and her mouth pressed into a hard line. "Excuse you?"

It was not hard to realize he had made her mad, but he was too tightly wound to care. "Forget it. I'll leave you two alone. Clearly that's what you want."

"It is if you're going to act like a child!" Helen shot back.

Bigby gave her a horrible look and stormed out of the bar, the door slamming behind him. If she expected him to just stick around while she flirted with someone else, that made her more heartless than he could have ever guessed. And he knew, better than anyone, that she had been excited about what was happening. She had thrilled in a way he had not seen from her before.

He slammed into Mr. Web, apologizing as he pushed on his course. Why had Jill told him Helen liked him if it wasn't even true? But even angry he knew that was not true; Jill had absolutely believed every word she had said. And he had really thought, in the week that had passed, that she was right... Whatever, he thought. She could have Boy Blue if she wanted him. See if he cared.

Back at the bar Helen felt as if she had been kicked in the gut.

"Goddamnit, Blue!" she shouted at him, dropping her head onto her arms. "Damn you to hell!"

"Don't worry, Helen the lovely. It's all part of a cunning plan."

"I don't _care_!" she said, picking her head up and glowering at him. "It's taken ages to get him in here everyday and to get him to unwind!"

Boy Blue grinned even more widely. "So you meant it? You do fancy our sulky sheriff?"

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her embarrassment with annoyance. "Yes..."

"Then let this take it's course. Bigby is set and it's hard to budge him. But jealousy... That will not sit well with him at all. If he thinks someone else might catch your attention, it may push him to action."

"You're assuming he has any interest in me."

Blue simply stared at her, one eyebrow quirked. "Really?"

"Fine," she sighed. "But you should have asked me, Blue."

"Would you have hinted at how you felt if I hadn't forced it?"

She didn't reply but played with the end of her braid, her attention sliding to the painting that hung in her bar.

Blue reached over and caught one of her hands. "Trust me."


	9. Chapter 9: Missing Kisses

After three days went by without any word or sign from Bigby, Helen was ready to explode.

Out of desperation, Helen called up Blue and headed to the Business Office, her mind spinning as she walked.

Blue had guessed wrong and now he would have to fix it. She wasn't sure how. Maybe something public, which would also be very personally satisfying after all of this...

The slow elevator was both familiar and torture. It reminded her of Bigby and it was taking too damn long. The doors finally opened and she walked straight into the very man she had been obsessing over.

"Hello," Bigby said, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Hey..." She wished she had something better to say but she had been completely caught off guard. The doors closed behind her and he was still here, watching her closely with his amber eyes.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she fumbled.

"Yeah..." he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. He was reminded of just how gorgeous she was, between the abundance of freckles and her bright blue eyes. "Listen... I shouldn't have yelled at you. I overreacted."

Helen's heart leapt. "I understand," she replied, watching him unwind somewhat as she said it. She leaned back against the wall, feeling herself relax in kind.

Bigby leaned his shoulder against the wall close beside her, and she turned her face up to him, so close her hair brushed his cheek.

"You've been missed," Helen pressed.

He met her eyes and wondered if he had been wrong about her and Blue.

"That's an easy fix," he replied, leaning into her subconsciously. Her shoulder was pressed into his chest and their faces were very close indeed.

She smiled at him and his heart raced. "Then I'm relying on you to fix it, Sheriff."

He could hear her pulse pounding and could smell the excitement rolling off of her. It suddenly struck him that she had not been reacting to Blue before. What had she said, when he had noticed her excitement...? _"Maybe I like sulking."_

Helen could not make out his expression, though he was watching her intently. "What is it?"

Bigby opened his mouth to speak, to tell her that he had realized something, but was cut off.

"Helen!" Blue called from further up the hallway.

She felt Bigby move away from her, and turned to Blue, staring daggers.

"Have you reconsidered my offer?" he continued, ignoring the ugly look she gave him.

"I'll see you around," Bigby said, hitting the elevator button and not meeting her eyes.

She wanted to say something to reassure him, but not with Boy Blue standing there staring at them.

The moment Blue shut the Business Office door she turned on him. "Could you _possibly_ have worse timing?"

"I hope not. That took some effort."

"You asshole!"

He simply grinned back at her. "You are far more devious than you let on. Your appearance here to meet privately with me after all that drama a few days ago... What on earth will the wolf among us be thinking _now_?"

"I was coming here to get you to fix this! He hasn't talked to me in three days!"

"He will now. And if he doesn't, I will absolutely fix this, as you put it. I promise."

* * *

"Look what the wolf dragged in!" Helen called as Bigby strolled into the bar the next evening.

"Very clever," he replied dryly, but with a small smile. He felt a little queasy which was certainly out of character for him.

Even Helen could tell he was nervous by the way he kept clenching his hands and then unclenching them.

"Something on your mind?"

"I have two questions for you."

He watched her lean forward across the bar, playfully lowering her voice, her off the shoulder shirt hanging open invitingly. "You show up for the first time in almost a week to quiz me? Surely you can do better than that."

His hands clenched into fists.

"Indulge me," he replied, meeting her eyes and lowering his voice to match hers.

His tone sent a delightful chill through her. She would be more than happy to do exactly that...

"Fine," she said. "But..." She pulled a bottle of vodka from it's shelf and glasses that she set in front of each of them. She poured out two shots. "You have to earn it, Bigby."

"Glad to," he replied. They both tossed back their shots and she watched him, tense and waiting.

"Question one: do you remember what day it is Saturday?"

She refilled their shots and they both drank again. She rolled her eyes. "Remembrance Day."

Bigby smiled at the attitude. "Not a fan?"

"As you well know, I do not have a whole lot to mourn the loss of." She deliberately crossed her wrists in front of her, tattoos gleaming.

Maybe it was the shots combined or not having eaten since he saw Helen walk off with Blue or maybe it wasn't, but Bigby ran his fingertips across her wrists, bringing out goosebumps on her skin.

When he pulled his hands away, Helen refilled again and again they drank.

"Question two..."

Helen could easily tell he was leading up to something and had more than some idea what that would be. She willed herself to stay still, to wait for him to say it.

"Distaste for everything this represents aside, would you go with me? To the ball?"

For the final time, she poured out shots and they drank. Maybe not the best idea to do this buzzed, but it seemed to be helping. She lowered her gaze, looking up at him through long lashes.

"Of course. I was hoping you would ask."

* * *

Bigby was standing still outside the Woodlands, leaning against a tree in the shadows. Helen had asked him not to meet her at her apartment, to just let her meet her at the Woodlands. He was half afraid this was some symptom of her not wanting to be seen with him, but he had agreed.

As he waited his fists were clenched tight and jammed in his pockets. At least if he stood very still, newcomers to the ball would not notice him. No one would know if he had been stood up. They would simply assume it was business as usual.

Then a familiar face passed through the gates and his mood lifted instantly. He stepped out of the shadows to greet her.

Helen reached him and could not take her eyes off of him. "You shaved," she breathed, gently resting a hand along his jawline.

He leaned slightly into her touch. "Enjoy it while it lasts. It'll all grow back before this thing is over."

Helen had to admit she was touched by the gesture. He looked very striking in a suit, clean-shaved with his hair combed back from his face. And the look he was giving her made her want to blush and throw herself at him all at once.

"You look... stunning," Bigby finally managed. She had always worn her hair braided, but tonight it hung in loose curls down her back, which drew further attention to the structure of her dress: a very low neckline with straps low on her shoulders and a slit midway up her thigh. The deep teal brought out her eyes and pale skin, and Bigby realized he had never seen her legs before and very much wanted to see more of them.

He forced his eyes back to hers and offered her his arm; she accepted and they entered the Woodlands Building.

Helen was intensely aware of the eyes on her as they walked through the lobby and entered the elevator. And while this made her want to shrink into nothing, Bigby seemed more and more pleased.

After they entered the fifteenth floor, Bigby lead her out onto the dance floor, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

"You should know I don't know how to dance," she murmured to him.

"Neither do I," he replied, earning a laugh from her.

"Fables are staring," Helen murmured, now looking more amused by this.

Bigby leaned forward, his cheek resting against hers and his lips brushing her ear. "My mother once gave me some sage advice. Would you like to hear it?"

Helen nodded, pressing even closer to him.

"Fuck them all."

She laughed aloud, earning even more stares, but it no longer mattered.

Through the evening, they remained at the edges of the ball. They were their own isolated pair, but neither could have cared less. They were caught in each other's orbit, and were here for no one but each other.

The few times he had been called away to deal with Fabletown issues, Helen had moved to a balcony, clearly uninterested in engaging with anyone else. And from the moment he returned, she was not able to take her eyes off of him.

Bigby found he could not resist her skin, always maintaining contact, with a hand on her back or arm or waist, and he knew for a fact that she was not displeased by this. As the evening wore on, she moved closer and closer, as if being pulled toward him, until they found themselves sitting on a plush bench under an awning, his arms around her and her head on his shoulder.

Snow had been trying to speak with Bigby throughout the ball, now realizing what she was giving up by rejecting him. But they were completely inextricable, always together and clearly basking in the glow of their mutual affection.

They passed by her as they were leaving and Snow stopped him outright.

"Bigby, I need to speak with you."

He had known Snow for so long it was obvious this was personal. Possibly she was feeling the sting of letting something slip past her. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Helen stop walking and turn to watch them.

"Sorry, Snow. I've got other matters to attend to. I'll see you around."

They left with his arm gently wrapped around her waist, Snow watching in distress.

* * *

"Well, sheriff," Helen grinned, stopping outside of the Mortar and Pestle. "That was not a complete waste of an evening."

"I am glad it was less horrible than anticipated," he replied, also smiling.

"You were right..." she said sounding half awed as her eyes roamed his face. Her hand again reached up to hold his jaw, resting her other hand on his chest. "It's all grown in."

He wanted to say something clever, to make her laugh again, but he was so distracted by her face so close to his and her hands on him. He slipped his arms around her, wrapping her up and drawing her even closer to him. They were pressed so tightly together Helen melted into the heat of his body.

She tilted her face to his. He began to lower his lips towards hers...

A mundy cab drove by and honked, the driver jeering from within. Bigby let out a hollow laugh and moved away from her, now seemingly self-conscious.

"Sometimes I make the mistake of forgetting we still in fact live in New York," Helen joked awkwardly.

He nodded, unable to think of a recovery. "I had a good time. First good time at that thing in more years than I can count."

"Me too," she replied, catching his hand, trying to reestablish the moment before.

Before he could question his judgement, he raised her hand to his lips.

"I'll see you soon, Helen. I promise."

She smiled, and watching his retreating form until he rounded the corner.


	10. Chapter 10: Seriously

All through the afternoon, Bigby smoked and smoked and smoked.

Helen did not love his smoking, he mused as he stared out his office window, but she understood it so she left it alone.

Which brought his thoughts back to her once again and back to the reason for the chain smoking.

 _How_ could he have not kissed her?! In every other way the night had been perfect, and she was so completely absorbing and he could think of little else, a loop of frustration and indecision.

Should he approach her in some way? He would see her again that night, but the bar was hardly the place for a grand gesture. He was fine with showing off (the wolf part of him liked this quite a bit) but he did not know if she would want that and it would be a poor way to find out.

At least she knew he was interested in her now. And he was also certain she felt the same way. But this made it even more shockingly stupid that he had just walked off!

He was debating taking a "lunch break" at the Mortar and Pestle when a familiar voice caught his ear.

Bigby rushed to throw open his office window and air out the room as a plan quickly formed in his mind. All he needed to do was to get her in here...

* * *

Helen had decided that the fact her pipes had leaked for years was a good enough excuse to wander down to the Business Office. Jill had smirked but had no problem with not queuing for the thousandth time to no end result.

Johann the Butcher was there as well, reporting vandalism to the front of his shop, and they chatted as they waited. It had been years since she had seen some of these Fables so usually there was a lot to tell, especially now that so many of them were free from the machinations of the year before.

"I hate the way he handles things but he did get us free from the Crooked Man," Johann assented, nodding toward Bigby's door.

"He's a pain sometimes," Helen agreed. "But he does get stuff done."

At that moment, Bigby's door flew open and he stepped into the hall. His eyes landed on her and his expression darkened.

"Helen! Get in here!"

She had never seen him look so angry, not in human form anyway, and for a moment she hesitated.

"Speaking of," Johann breathed. "Sorry about your luck."

"I'm not the one who's going to be sorry shortly," she snapped back, coming back to herself quickly. She left her place in line and shouldered past Bigby.

Once the door was shut he turned to her, his heart slamming in his chest, but she whirled on him and he immediately recognized a major flaw with his plan.

"Don't you EVER speak to me that way in front of other Fables!"

"Helen, I-"

"No! Whatever stupid excuse that is about to come flying out of your mouth had better stay there! I have treated you with respect since the moment we met and I expected the same from you!"

"Helen, if you just-"

"I don't care, Bigby!" she shouted at him. "Whatever it is cannot possibly-"

Bigby realized there was only one way he could even attempt to salvage this situation. He crossed the room, drew her to him, and pressed his lips to hers.

There was a moment when she did not react at all that gave Bigby panic, but then he felt her arms move to his hips, pulling him close and pressing her lips hard into his.

She pulled back after a moment and met his eyes.

"Seriously?"

"It seemed like a good plan until it happened," he admitted. "I have been wishing I kissed you all day."

"That makes two of us," she replied, tangling one hand in his hair and pulled his face back down to hers.

Their lips met with more fire and he found himself cradling her neck with one hand, the other holding her waist tightly. She leaned into him and deepened their kisses, parting his lips with her tongue. In response, he pulled her even more tightly to him and moved his lips from her mouth to her ear to her neck. He could feel her dig her nails into his back and his hands slid lower...

And then the door opened.

"So Johann told Snow there was screaming and then silence in here so I've been sent to make sure no one is dead," Blue announced, looking at a stack of papers he was holding.

He looked up and a grin spread across his face. Both of them looked guilty, and while Bigby had managed to move to another spot in the office it was clear what had been going on.

"My my..." Blue said. "It quite seems that the two of you have made up and are doing just fine."

"That we are," Helen replied calmly. "We are in the middle of something important and are not to be disturbed though."

"Of course!" Blue chirped, moving back toward the door. "I'll just pass that along." He winked at them and left.

"I'm sorry, Helen," Bigby started apologetically. "I should have noticed-"

"I don't really understand why your lips have not resumed their previous activities right now," Helen cut him off teasingly.

With a huge grin, Bigby crossed back to her, their lips crashing together once again.


	11. Chapter 11: Love Drunk

Bigby blew smoke out through the open window, watching the cars drive by through the twilight and barely concealing a grin.

Things had been quite good with Helen, quite good indeed. There had been a lot of time together talking, and a lot of time together not talking... Remembering those times made his insides lurch pleasingly. Sadly he was supposed to be hunting through Bluebeard's halls for weapons for the next several nights since his sense of smell served him well here, with Beast in tow for safety. This was not at all where he wanted to be.

He sighed and shut the window, putting out the cigarette and heading into the hall.

Blue was chatting with Jill as she waited for Snow to free up and grinned when he saw Bigby.

"Sorry it's a lonely May Day for you," he called teasingly.

Bigby rolled his eyes but caught Jill's expression and stopped.

"What did you just say?" she asked Blue, grabbing his arm.

"Sorry it's a lonely..." Blue's face showed recognition immediately. "Oh fuck!"

"What is it?" Bigby asked.

"Jill?" Snow called, opening the door and motioning the other Fable in.

"Dammit!" Jill shouted. "I need to go in! I've been here all day!"

They both turned to look at Bigby.

"What. IS. It?!" he snapped once again.

"It's... It's the date Helen was supposed to get married. The day..."

"I stopped the wedding," Bigby finished. "Is she at the bar?"

"Probably has been making a dent in her own supply. I usually try to stay with her or make sure someone is with her," Jill gave Blue a swift glance, "but I completely forgot this year."

Bigby nodded and turned to head out.

"You're supposed to meet Beast in ten minutes," Snow objected.

He had forgotten she was there. He rounded on her and pinned her in his gaze. She shrunk a little but held his eyes.

"Surely you can see why it matters I do this right now?" he rumbled, suppressing the worry and anger that welled up in him. "I will be in first thing in the morning. We will do it then. Please, Snow."

She wanted to say no, more than anything else. But she also knew he would still leave. She would not be able to stop him from going to Helen.

"First thing in the morning," she clipped.

* * *

Bigby rushed into the Mortar and Pestle and was surprised to find Helen slouched in a bar stool, a bottle in one hand.

"Hello!" she cooed brightly at him. This tone did not fool him at all: the smell of sadness oozed from her and her face was a wet and blotchy mess.

A swift look around made it clear no one was there but her and he locked the front door behind him.

"Drink?" she asked as he took a seat beside her.

He took a pull from the bottle, surprised to taste gin.

"Not your usual," he quipped, trying to hide his concern.

"Well I finished the one bottle and I didn't want to waste our best selling one," Helen admitted.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here. Blue and Jill just told me what day it is."

He could see her crumple visibly as his words settled in.

"Yeah... It's a bad one," she replied, hiding her wrists as best she could under her hands.

"We should get you upstairs," he soothed, gathering her hands up in his. "This isn't going to help."

"Maybe not. But it dulls things."

Bigby didn't have an answer to that so he simply helped her to her apartment door.

"Don't leave," she murmured, twining her fingers with his.

"Not if you don't want me to."

He followed her up to her apartment for the first time. It was a small space but nice and covered in the same warm wood as the bar, giving everything a cozy and forresty glow. It was tidy and full of the smells that made up Helen. He took in the tidy stacks of knick-knacks and books and followed her into the kitchen.

"You should sober up. Coffee?"

"The pot's on the counter. Coffee in the freezer," she slurred, reaching back into the fridge.

"You should find a seat. I can get this."

"Here." She plunked a can down beside the coffee maker and he was surprised to realize it was Midas Gold, which _he_ drank though _she_ regularly made fun of it and refused it herself. The easy conclusion was that his presence up here was not unexpected. He cracked it open and took a drink before starting the coffee.

Helen managed to get herself seated on the counter across from him gracelessly, a true sign she was drunk.

"My life is bullshit," she murmured.

The coffee began to brew and Bigby moved to stand in front of her.

"How so?"

"I used to rule a kingdom. And then some asshole wanted to use me to prove himself and it all went to shit. And then a _different_ asshole destroyed my wrists and tried to rape me. And what is my great reward for surviving all of this? A little bar, stuck with people who always remind me of what I tried to leave behind."

"You're right," Bigby soothed, placing a hand on her knee. "That is bullshit. You never deserved any of it."

She let a small smile through.

"Sometimes I wish I had never fetched you for him. Maybe you would be happier," he said.

"No... Don't wish that. Never wish that." Her voice was low and carried a new tone.

Bigby could feel the temperature in the room rise by several degrees and subconsciously he moved closer to her. They had yet to... progress in their physical relations and he was more than ready.

"I've always wondered how it would have been if I had stayed... But then you walked into my bar and I _knew_ it was you... Ever since you showed up one night in my room, I knew it was _only_ you."

He found himself standing between her parted legs and realized this when she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Helen, you're drunk. I don't want -"

"You know this is what I want. I _know_ you do."

Bigby could feel heat spreading across his face; that he certainly did.

"But if you need convincing..." she continued. She pulled her shirt over her head in a deft move and as much as Bigby wanted to be better than his instincts, he gave in.

The feeling of his rough hands on her soft skin drove him wild and he pulled her as close to him as he was able. She tightened the grip of her legs on his waist, pressing her hips into his. A low growl was her reward and she grinned through their kisses. The buttons on his shirt simply would not come undone with her drunk like this, but a yank sent them scattering.

That move resulted in her being lifted from the counter and pressed into the wall opposite. Helen knotted her hands in his hair, pulling in response. His lips traveled across as much of her skin as he could find and she pulled his shirt as far off of him as she was able. Helen then found herself beneath him on her couch, Bigby throwing his shirt to the floor and leaning in to kiss her. Helen ground her hips up against his in response and could feel him grow hard.

Bigby's hand worked it's way up her skirt, but something caught his senses and he stopped.

The minute he pieced it together he put her on her feet and raced for a trashcan. He was just barely in time as she sunk to her knees and vomited hard.

He knelt beside her and rubbed her back until she stopped, panting with her forehead beaded with sweat.

"You should get to the bathroom, before you're sick again."

"I can't..." she faded out, feeling too sick to move.

Bigby scooped her up in his arms, and ever so gently carried her into the bathroom.

* * *

Helen woke to the sounds of someone cooking. Thick nausea overwhelmed her and she moaned, throwing blankets over her head. As she woke up more fully, she realized she was in pajamas and that her head throbbed when she moved.

She could hear someone enter the room and set plates down on her dresser. The blankets were pulled off of her head and she winced at the light coming in from the window.

"Morning, little firebird," Bigby teased as she glowered at him. He still wasn't wearing a shirt and she was not sad about this at all.

"I feel terrible," she groaned. "What happened?"

"You got drunk, things got heated, and then you got sick."

"I do actually remember all that," she shot back.

"You never know." He put a plate of eggs and toast on her lap. "Eat."

She made a face at the food as he dug into his own plate. "And after I got sick?"

"You kept getting sick, and eventually stopped getting sick. Then I got you into some pajamas and into bed. You've been sleeping for a good amount of time."

"Where did you sleep?"

"On the floor. Didn't want to assume."

Helen shifted over in the bed and motioned for him to join her, which he did with a half smile, draping his arm around her and pulling her close. She leaned against him, listening to the beat of his heart.

"You're always welcome in my bed, Bigby."

He grinned down at her, and she sat up, starting to nibble at her toast.

"Jill's in for the morning and I'll be by tonight. I have to leave after I finish this."

"You're not staying any longer?"

"Have to get to the office first thing. It was my deal with the devil to get down here when I did yesterday."

Helen's flat, unimpressed look drew a laugh from him. "I agree. Luckily, you have a shirt of mine here already or I would be walking into the office with no buttons."

Helen blushed scarlet. "Sorry..."

Bigby grinned even more broadly. "Never apologize."

He climbed out of the bed, taking his empty plate away. He came back pulling on another ubiquitous white button down and buttoning it as he talked.

"You need to eat all of that. Sick or not you need the food."

She put the plate aside for a minute, holding his gaze. "I'm sorry things didn't work out last night."

"You don't need to apologize-"

"I'm not. I'm saying I'm sorry it didn't work out. I wish that it had."

The look he gave her made it clear that if she had not been sick he would have pounced on her then and there.

"I should be by around my usual time," he offered, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

"The bar may need to close early in that case."

He leaned down and kissed her hard. She pressed back, reaching up to hold his face.

"Till then," he murmured, before leaving.


	12. Chapter 12: Work

When Bigby stepped into the Business Office that morning, Snow felt her stomach sink. He was downright chipper and that could really only mean one thing.

"How did things go with Helen?" Blue asked, propping his feet up on his desk and leaning back in his desk chair.

"She was very drunk and got very sick. She'll be fine."

"She's lucky our livers can handle it. You seem mighty perky for a man who spent the evening with a sick girlfriend."

"Those are all the details you're getting, Blue."

Blue grinned evilly as Bigby blushed slightly but he let it drop. Snow would have given anything to have been able to punch then both in their stupid faces. Her eyes landed on a clipboard on her desk.

"Bigby! Beast!"

They both joined her and she handed the clipboard to Beast. "We have two days of work to do today. Those are items we are reasonably sure exist in Bluebeard's apartment. You need to catalogue them and bring them down her with proper identification for Buffkin."

"Can't Bufkin come with us?"

"He's been drinking as well so no, he can't."

The look Bigby gave her made her wish she could take back the dig but she stood her ground and kept eye contact.

"When you're done with what's there, you're free to go."

"And if we can't get it done?" Bigby growled.

"Then you may have a long day ahead of you. You should know better than anyone that we aren't safe as long as Bluebeard has those items."

"Come on," Beast coaxed. "The sooner we start, the sooner we're done."

* * *

Helen waited. Bigby had said he would be in at the normal time.

The normal time came and went.

She kept waiting.

She waited well into the night.

He had not called, not sent any word with anyone else. She had no reason to assume he was in any danger so she had gone from worried to increasingly angry with every passing hour.

Eventually she locked everything up and went to bed, alone and furious.

* * *

When Bigby and Beast finally finished the insane list they had been given, it was approaching noon the next day.

"No..." Beast moaned as he realized the time. "Beauty's going to kill me!"

At the mention of Beast's wife, Bigby immediately remembered his own promise to Helen. He swore loudly, dashing into his office and practically diving for the phone.

He listened to the rings and eventually Helen picked up.

"Hello?"

"Helen! It's Bigby! I-"

There was a click and the line went dead. His stomach dropped and he knew he was in serious trouble.

* * *

Bigby didn't feel like it could really get any worse if he delayed so he caught a nap on his couch and changed into a less rumpled version of what he always wore.

It was three in the afternoon when Helen looked up from her book to see him walk into her bar.

Bigby felt his temper flare as she gave him a look of disgust and turned her back to him.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it last night," he offered, leaning against the bar and watching her clean glasses.

"Were that the only problem I suppose that would make me feel better."

Her voice was clipped and he could scent the fury and anxiety seeping from her.

"And what other problem is there?"

"Why didn't you call?"

"We were chest deep into Bluebeard's weapons and loot."

She turned to face him dangerously slowly. "Did it even occur to you to let me know?"

The look on his face made it clear he had not.

"Damn you, Bigby!" Helen finally erupted. "How am I second to your _job_?!"

"There are things that have to be dealt with sometimes. You know what I do!" Bigby's voice dropped to a growl.

"I _know_ that they tell you how important you are and dismiss you when it's convenient. Something I have _never_ done."

She watched his hands ball into fists and knew that he was as aware of this as she was.

"My place in this community is dependent on my ability to do this job," Bigby tried to explain, thinking of how he still could not visit the Farm. "It is unpredictable but -"

"In what world is going through weapons an immediate security priority?" Helen cried, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. "You've been Snow's lapdog so long you can't even _see_ it anymore!"

It did not occur to Bigby, even for a moment, that Helen was clearly and obviously jealous and hurt. It seemed like Snow had everything that Helen would never have, including Bigby's undivided attention when she wanted it.

"That is _not_ true."

"Yes, it _is_ ," she spat at him. "She's still got talons in you because you still care more about pleasing _her_. If she asks you to jump you leap into the very stars!"

Bigby could not stand any more of this. Pissing off Snow could result in his expulsion from this world, and Helen would not be any better served by that. And his job was important to him; it was redemption and service after hundreds of years of self-serving violence. He needed this role as much as Fabletown needed him to fill it.

"If I have to neglect my job to prove something to you then this isn't going to work!"

"This isn't about your job! This is about your _priorities_!"

"And you think that drunk kisses make you a priority?!"

Helen went dead silent and stared at him. Never in a million years would anything like that have ever come out of her mouth, and Bigby knew immediately he had gone too far. This was far more than just drunk kisses and they both knew it.

She stared at him with her eyes becoming glassy and red, and when he reached out to touch her and she violently pulled away from him.

"Fuck you, Bigby Wolf," she hissed at him. "After all these years, you're just like every other man."

Her words were like getting punched in the stomach; he knew the men in her life and what they had done.

He needed to get out of the Mortar and Pestle before it got even worse so he stormed out of the bar without another word.

Once he was no longer in sight, Helen dropped her head onto her arms and began to cry.


	13. Chapter 13: Not Afraid

It was immediately clear what had happened to anyone involved in Bigby and Helen's daily lives.

* * *

Helen was silent unless she was required to speak, her usual quips and sarcasm stilled in the loss of her favorite customer.

It was so blatant that one afternoon Dr. Swineheart tried to be as sympathetic as he was able, until Jill intervened.

Helen let her head drop into her hands after the doctor had left. "Thank you," she sighed, heavily. "I thought he was going to talk himself into corner and end up propositioning me."

"This is not unheard of," Jill said with disgust.

"He's a good doctor. He's saved Bigby more times..." She trailed off.

"Speaking of," Jill said cautiously, "what happened to our sheriff?"

"I could not care less," Helen replied acidly.

"I don't think that's true."

Helen dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

"Snow buried him under work and he didn't even think of me. I'm not even on his mind."

"He's not allowed to forget?" Jill asked, bracing herself inwardly.

"I _never_ forget him, no matter how hard I have tried. It seems all too easy for _him_ to forget _me_ , over and over and over."

Jill nodded and twined her fingers in Helen's. He certainly did have a history of forgetting in the worst ways.

* * *

Angrier than ever and far more reclusive, Bigby was putting a lot of effort into avoiding other Fables.

Each day, he entered his office, shut the door, and would speak to only two or three people.

Blue counted himself lucky to be among this small number of people. He resisted asking about what had happened for an entire week before he just could not take it any more.

Bigby could sense the question coming and fought the urge to shout at him preemptively.

"How's Helen?" Blue ventured, blatantly ignoring the look Bigby was giving him.

"I do not know and I do not care."

"Really?"

Bigby's look darkened even further and he pulled out what felt like his hundredth cigarette. "She told me I'm like every other man." It still hurt, even repeating her words. "I haven't talked to her since."

"That's harsh."

Bigby nodded.

"What did you do to make her say that?"

A low growl rumbled from the sheriff but Blue stood his ground.

"I was with her once too, Bigby. She doesn't just say things like that. We both know better."

Not making eye contact, he finally replied after full minutes of silence. "I asked her why she should be a priority."

"The hell you did!" Blue exploded. "Why would you _say_ that?"

"She called me a lapdog!" Bigby shouted back.

"Have you truly never felt that way?!" Blue pushed. "We both know what this office is like! Snow knew that once too!"

He was not going to have this conversation, one he had been trying so very hard to ignore.

"I need a drink," Bigby finally managed, storming out of his office.

* * *

Bigby headed to the Trip Trap, half hoping to go unnoticed and half hoping for a fight. If Grendel decided to take issue with him being there...

But the bar was empty and Holly knew full well why he was there. It made him furious that _everyone_ knew, but what could be done? They were a small community, for better or for worse.

He downed one beer and called for a second.

Blue's words ate at him, swirling together with his own memories.

Snow had scorned him for refusing to burn down Auntie Greenleaf's tree and had insisted that he needed to "take her office" seriously, demanding authority she had no claim to. After, he could hardly catch a moment with her until Helen had come into the picture.

Snow demanded his complete obedience, always the threat of his expulsion hanging over him. He was forced to serve unquestioningly and what was that if not the very definition of a lapdog?

And this bar... this was _not_ the Mortar and Pestle. He missed that bar.

He missed Helen.

He threw a few bills on the bar and pushed out into the cooling night, following his nose back to her.

* * *

Helen finished closing out the register and was heading to lock the door when a familiar silhouette appeared on the other side. She stepped back and Bigby entered for the first time in a week.

She walked away from him, putting the bar between them and leaning against it to watch him.

"Bigby..."

"I've been thinking," he interrupted.

"Don't hurt yourself," she half teased and his mouth quirked in a momentary smirk.

"My job as sheriff has been all I have had for _hundreds_ of years. In all that time, there have been no women and few friends. I was brought to this world to be this town's sheriff, and there are those who would have me gone in a breath were it in their control."

"Bigby, I owe you an -" Helen started, her heart twisting at this confession. He was allowed to forget; she hadn't been very fair to him.

"Let me finish," he interrupted, his voice deepening as he locked his gaze with hers. Helen felt her pulse begin to race; Bigby watched her face and neck flush and felt his breath hitch in response.

"This has been my only redemption," he continued "But you..."

His eyes never left hers as he moved to her side of the bar. Helen followed him with her eyes, turning her body to face him as he stopped a hairsbreadth from her. Bigby could scent her and his stomach twisted as Helen leaned into his hard, muscled body, holding his intense gaze.

"I am an animal. I am a creature. I am a wolf. _Everyone_ fears and despises me. I've eaten men and women and children and grandmothers and when Fables look at me they see their lost and their dead. But you…"

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him, and felt her warm hand on his face as her other brushed hair from his eyes. Her lips were parted, waiting, and her pupils were enormous.

"You let me in. You know me and you take me as I am. You're not afraid of the Big Bad Wolf."

He had more he could say, but she cut him off with a fierce kiss, her lips crashing onto his. Neither held anything back as she once again wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her up the stairs in the bar to the apartment above.

Mere moments and breaths later found them both in Helen's bed.

"Bigby..." she breathed as his lips grazed over every inch of her skin.

"Yes?"

"I love you. I always have."

His lips met her ferociously as they both tore away what little remained of their clothes.

"As have I, little beautiful one."

She pulled him to her, guiding him inside her. They fit as perfectly as if they had been made for one another, their breaths and sighs and moans wrecking the silence throughout all the hours of the night.

* * *

 **The End!**


End file.
